Chiloe and an Introduction to South American Buses!

After only 30 hours in Santiago, we embarked on another long haul on Tuesday evening to the island of Chiloe. Eating grande salads and stocking up on some paltry snacks, we boarded our Cruz de Sur Salon Cama bus at 2030 for a twelve hour overnight ride. The Salon Cama bus was worth every extra peso, as we sank into deep cushioned seats and were able to recline to a nearly horizontal position. My internal clock was so confused from the measly six or so hours of sleep I had gotten during my 48 hour journey to Chile, that I promptly passed out hard until six the next morning. 

Making our way to the bus station in Santiago.

I awoke to a sweet sunrise.

Originally we were going to stop in Puerto Montt, the town on the mainland coast of Chile before catching a ferry to Chiloe. Instead we figured on just staying on our uber comfortable bus for an additional four hours, riding the ferry on our bus, until we reached Castro, the largest town on Chiloe.

Riding the ferry.

Chiloe is a place of wild beauty, fish towns, UNSECO World Heritage wooden churches, and is steeped deeply in a mystical and mythological past. After sixteen hours on the bus, we were grateful to be on our own two feet in an intense search for food. Landing upon a delicious sushi restaurant, we over ordered to the point that we didn't even eat dinner that night.

Iglesia de Castro.

Castro habor.

After an afternoon of strolling through markets, the bustling downtown, and along the waterfront, we called it a day and made plans to go on a tour of the surrounding area of Castro and the National Park of Chiloe the next day. 

Thursday, Jorge, our sweet and helpful driver from our hostel, took Michael and I and two French girls on a day long drive on the Castro side of the island. From the sprawling marketplace, unbelievably beautiful wooden churches, to vistas and finally to the National Park.

The smell overload market place. 

The dark swirled paint on the wooden columns is designed to look like European marble columns. 

As we were filling out the visitor log at the Chiloe National Park, there was suddenly a great commotion. The park ranger quickly grabbed his walkie talkie to call for reinforcements, motioned for another ranger to make his way over, and suddenly Michael was surrounded by three uniformed gentlemen. Fortunately, Michael has a reasonable command of the Spanish language, because I was about ready to pretend like nothing weird was happening, grab his hand and walk in the opposite direction. It turns out that Michael was the 30,000th visitor to the park this year (their goal for 2013), and it was cause for celebration! Taking us to the park's museum, Michael was officially interviewed and presented with a Spanish book on the myths and legends of Chiloe and a DVD of the park. They asked for my info too, so we both felt strangely important.

Upon our return to our hostel, we dolled up to go to dinner at the highly recommended Mercadito restaurant in celebration of Michael being accepted to Business School. He had just received the email on Wednesday, so it is a wonderful holiday and life gift!

Ceviche!

Our last day on Chiloe, was a truly epic misadventure. Renting a brand new (plastic shrink wrap still intact) Kia Morning, we headed out towards the remote north western part of the island to try to find the elusive (for this time of year) Humboldt and Magellanic penguins native to Chiloe. After a benign 60 km on paved road, we maneuvered an abrupt turnoff onto a rocky dirt road. Bumping along for almost 20 km, cresting hills to peek at the ocean, negotiating cows wandering back and forth across the road, we arrived at a steep extremely primative road. We should have wisely left the car at the top and walked down towards the beach, but instead we ricocheted down, nearly bottoming out the car numerous times, only to be stopped at the bottom by a massive puddle. Abandoning the car, we continued on foot, crawling under a bar wired fence, and emerging on a tundra like landscape with sand dunes breaking the horizon. 

  

The pivotal decision to off road.

Instead of following the tire tracks in the sand that followed a fenced pasture, we decided to cut through the dunes and greenery to the sound of the ocean. Not the brightest decision. Scrambling up windy dunes, bushwacking along rarely used cow paths, gently walking through a herd of unattended grazing cows (including a massive bull), and finally crossing a quicksand consistency marsh, we emerged on the beach. All in all we spent over an hour struggling through, albeit, a gorgeous landscape, when the return trip along the sandy tracks took a fraction of the time.

Jurassic park leaves.

Trying to figure out how to get from here to there.

One of my new Converse was sucked off my foot and had to be rescued by Michael.

Michael jumped...

I waded...

Walking along Punihuil Beach was seriously nothing short of breathtaking. We did not see a single other person in our whole mini trek and miles long walk along the beach in search of penguins. I felt like we were walking in, how I imagine it, New Zealand, or some other exotic coast. The ocean threw up glittering and smooth rocks onto the shore, and a massive free standing cave loomed at one end of the beach. 

Walking towards the cave. Penguins?

Alas, no penguins were to be found, and we had to hightail it (which is very difficult when walking in sand) to our car in order to make it back to Castro for our 1730 bus back to Santiago. We alternated between gritting our teeth and holding our breath as Michael deftly off roaded the bicycle tire Kia up the hill, this time bottoming out numerous times. Skidding into Castro with an hour to spare, we wolfed down some delicious sandwiches, and prepared ourselves for the 16 hour ride back.

Arriving 30 minutes early in Santiago on Saturday morning, we made the impulse decision to catch the outgoing bus to Mendoza departing in fifteen minutes. Whew. With barely enough time to stock up on a couple granola bars and more water, we were back on a bus (sadly, not a Salon Cama) for the eight hour drive through the Andes and a belabored border crossing.

30 some odd curves up to the pass in Santiago.

After exactly 24 hours of bus travel we arrived in wine rich Mendoza, treated ourselves to a bottle, ate a fashionably late Argentinian meal and tried to sleep in our sweltering, bar/hostel. What a whirlwind of South American travel so far. I am loving living in the moment.